


safety net

by shizuoh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College, Established Relationship, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Time Skip, kuroken brainrot is real i'm telling you guys...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuoh/pseuds/shizuoh
Summary: kenma loves tetsurou quietly, barely blinded by the blue-tinted light of 7 am.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 13
Kudos: 253
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	safety net

**Author's Note:**

> if you follow me on my tumblr blog at all then you may notice that i've been going through a kuroken thing for the past week or so. but this fanfiction itself started coming to life after the realization that i've never actually written something solely-kuroken in a VERY long time. so this is my first step into fixing that.

Kenma is by no means a light sleeper, but the sudden slamming noise that echoes across the room is loud enough to startle him awake. He jumps, only slightly, shifting against the mattress and burying his face in the pillow. It smells comfortably familiar, and he takes in a deep breath. It’s cool, too, as if someone had only recently flipped it over for him.

Only about half of the blankets are draped over him — the other half are either strewn haphazardly on the other side, or tangled in between his legs. Even if part of his body is starting to become cold, he’s comfortable, and doesn’t feel like moving.

The sound of typing soon fills the room. Turning his head (almost uncomfortably; his body is almost completely facing the other way), he peers over at the desk on the other side of the room. It’s not that far away — it’s only a tiny dorm room, after all — but Kenma’s eyes haven’t quite adjusted to being awake yet. His vision is blurry, and he blinks and squints and blinks again to try and center it. 

Tetsurou is sitting in the chair, one of his legs positioned away from underneath it. His hand cradles his knee, and his fingers absentmindedly traces circles into the bare skin. That must’ve been the bump; he’s always had a habit of hitting himself on things when he’s not paying attention. The typing stops for a moment. Tetsurou leans back in his desk chair with a sigh, taking his hands away from the keyboard momentarily. He rests them in his lap for a moment, then reaches out to hover them over the keys, before pulling them away once more. He makes a confused, frustrated noise, and opens one of the desk drawers to pull out a notebook. He flips through it, taps his pencil against his arm as his eyes scan for whatever he’s searching.

With a frown, Kenma looks over at the alarm clock. It’s big, bright, flashing red numbers read  _ 06:53 _ . 

He’s supposed to be sleeping.  _ Tetsurou  _ is supposed to be sleeping. This is the first time in quite a while that they’ve been able to spend time together, alone. Their schedules had finally (sort of) lined up for them to be able to come together for a few days. With Kenma’s channel just barely starting to take off, and Tetsurou’s workload only increasing and increasing, it feels as if the two of them are barely connected anymore — at least, compared to what they used to be. Calls and chats over video aren’t really the same compared to being able to see him in person. 

And Tetsurou had said he had no more homework during those few days. That it would be all  _ KenmaandTetsurou _ time. 

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. Tetsurou has started typing again, thoughtfully rubbing his thumb against his lower lip. He’s muttering something under his breath every few minutes, backspacing harshly only to retype a sentence completely. He marks something onto his notes, putting his pencil between his teeth, and starts typing a lot more furiously.

He’s pretty like this, Kenma thinks, even in the dull hours of 7 AM. The blue light from the morning has begun to seep in through Tetsurou’s closed blinds, illuminating parts of the room in a shade just barely able to be seen. The light glows across his skin — down from his bare legs, to his arms, up his neck and to his face. Tetsurou’s got his glasses on as he works; they’re a chunky, goofy sort of pair that take up his entire face, and Kenma knows he only wears them when he’s really trying to focus. They’re so big that they slide down his nose, but he’s so engrossed in whatever’s on his laptop that he doesn’t bother lifting a hand to push them back up — his greatest effort starts and stops at wrinkling his nose in an attempt to force them up. His eyes, enlarged by the lenses, are lidded, and tired-looking. There are heavy bags underneath them that suggest he’s been up for a while. Judging from the amount of text Kenma can barely see on the laptop screen, this is most likely the case.

Tetsurou shifts, making the seat creak loudly against the floor and snapping Kenma’s attention away from simply admiring him. He brings his leg up so its propped up against the desk, his foot tucked underneath his other leg. With this position, he rests his chin on the top of his knee, and continues typing. It looks uncomfortable, mainly for his back and neck, but Tetsurou doesn’t move for a good few minutes, so it must not be unbearable.

(Plus, Kenma can’t talk. He’s a gamer. His posture is ruined for the rest of his life.)

Kenma shifts on the bed, turning around so he can face his body towards the other. It ends up tangling the blankets even further around his legs, but that’s a problem for later. Tetsurou is so focused that he doesn’t even register the sound of movement. 

His eyes catch his phone on the nightstand. He hadn’t plugged it in the night before he fell asleep, but there’s a charger plugged, and when he taps the screen it reads _ 76% _ . He grimaces at the sight of the time again, and very lazily scrolls through his different notifications. He doesn’t really read any of them, and after a moment, he doesn’t have time to.

“Kenma?” He looks up at the call of his name. Tetsurou is looking back over his shoulder, glasses pushed up to his forehead. He frowns deeply. “Sorry. I didn’t know I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” Kenma lies. He makes a small, involuntary sound in the back of his throat as he moves to sit up, taking most of the blankets with him. His hair feels staticky; he can sense it sticking up in every direction. “How long have you been up?” he asks, rubbing his cheek with a yawn.

Tetsurou hesitates. “A while,” he admits guiltily.

Kenma clicks his tongue. He moves to stand, trying to gather up the blankets before his legs pull them completely off the bed. He manages to catch only the edge before they fall, and he stares down at the pile on the floor for a few moments before sighing and simply letting it go. He shakes from the sudden cold, but just lets his hands rest in the crook of his neck and shoulders, stepping over towards the back of Tetsurou’s chair. Leaning forward, he rests his chin on top of his head, nuzzling in the ruined bedhead.

“What are you doing?” he asks, closing his eyes.

“Are you using my hair as a pillow?” Tetsurou asks with a tiny laugh, and without waiting for a reply, answers, “I’m working on an essay.”

“You said you didn’t have any homework.”

“It was a surprise one last night.”

“Last night?” Kenma echoes. He lifts his chin when Tetsurou tilts his head back to look at him. “Why didn’t you do it then?”

Tetsurou’s ears go pink, and he averts his eyes. “You’d  _ just  _ gotten here,” he protests.

Kenma hums. He wraps his arms around him from behind. “So you figured you’d try to do it while I was asleep?” he guesses.

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, Tetsurou clears his throat awkwardly. He takes one hand away from his keyboard and grabs onto one of Kenma’s, lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t want to take away from time with you,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Kenma says, and falls silent.

Tetsurou’s stopped working by now. He puts all of his focus into grabbing Kenma’s hands, playing around with their fingers together and swinging them side to side. He tightens his grip on one hand and brings the back of Kenma’s palm to his lips — not quite kissing it, but just letting it rest there, knuckles brushing against his nose. Then, he starts kissing each finger, touching his lips to every knuckle and smoothing his thumb over the back of them. From the way Tetsurou’s shoulder shakes Kenma knows he’s thinking of something sappy.

Kenma takes in a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He slowly peels his hands away from Tetsurou’s, tightening them around his shoulders and pressing a quick, shy kiss to the back of his neck. It instantly grows warm from the touch. “You should come to bed,” he rushes out.

Tetsurou is dead silent. His face is slowly growing redder and redder.

“To sleep,” Kenma clarifies, embarrassed.

“Right,” Tetsurou says shortly. “Right…” He looks back up at his laptop longingly.

“It’s early,” Kenma says, even though 7 AM is not that despairing to many college students. “How long does that essay have to be?”

“I’m almost done, actually,” Tetsurou says honestly, reaching out to scroll through the pages.

Kenma considers this. “I’ll wait for you then,” he decides.

“What?” Tetsurou shakes his head. “Kenma, you can just go back to sl—”

Kenma covers his mouth with his own hand, shutting him up instantly. “I won’t be able to sleep if you’re not there,” he says, and before Tetsurou can react to that, walks around the chair so he can seat himself in the other’s lap. He’s small enough to fit in the gap between him and the desk. He wraps his arms around Tetsurou’s neck and tucks his head in his chest, sighing contendedly. “I’d rather wait with you and then sleep with you all day.”

The other’s quiet again. Tetsurou audibly swallows, and then laughs softly, running a hand through Kenma’s hair affectionately. “You’re always so cuddly in the mornings,” he says. His fingers tangle through the strands. “You need to brush this out. And dye it again, jeez.”

Kenma doesn’t respond to the first comment. “Maybe later,” he says into the fabric of Tetsurou’s shirt.

“Maybe later,” Tetsurou agrees, and goes back to work, the comfortable weight spurring him into motion once more.

The sound of typing fills the room again, albeit a bit quieter than before. One of Kenma’s hands plays with the rough hairs near the nape of Tetsurou’s neck, while the other dips underneath the collar of his shirt to trace circles into the bare skin of his back. Tetsurou’s arms cage him in, keeping him from sliding off or moving easily. They flex every now and then as he shifts to do other things on his desk, and Kenma eventually takes a hand away to ghost his touch up along his arms.

He’s happy that he’s able to do this. He’s happy that there’s nobody else who could touch Tetsurou this way. He wouldn’t consider himself a possessive person, but he takes in a sort of pride from the fact that  _ he’s  _ the only one Tetsurou would even consider looking at this way.

(He can hardly believe there was a time where all of this seemed impossible — miles away, and out of his touch.)

Eventually, just as Kenma’s eyes start getting heavier, the typing slows. Tetsurou reaches out towards the mousepad to click a few things, and then Kenma hears the telltale sound of the laptop shutting. His hands instantly come up to trace along Kenma’s back.

“Done?” he asks, half-asleep.

“About as good as it’s gonna get,” Tetsurou murmurs. “Thank you.”

Kenma shrugs one-shouldered. Tetsurou scoots the chair back, and gathers Kenma up in his arms, gripping the back of his thighs to shove him further up his body. Kenma tightens his hold as Tetsurou pushes in his desk chair and smoothes the blankets back up on the bed, and makes a sad noise when he’s dropped back onto the bed, touch gone and skin cold.

“I’m comin’,” Tetsurou assures, trying not to grin. 

Running a hand through his hair, Tetsurou throws his shirt off to the side somewhere. He lifts the blanket and kicks Kenma in the shin to get him to scoot over, climbing underneath when the other eventually complies. Before he’s even laid down completely, Kenma crawls back onto him and puts his head right on his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Cold,” he explains when Tetsurou goes still.

“Of course,” the other says. “Not ‘cause you like me or anything.”

“Nope,” Kenma agrees, not even bothering to fight off a smile when Tetsurou kisses the top of his head and settles back down into bed. “Nothing like that at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully again i'll be able to start writing (and finishing) longer things. i'm working my way back up.
> 
> (there's just something about that morning blue light that makes everything feel ten times different.)
> 
> [my blog](http://haikuyus.tumblr.com/)


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